


Porch Song

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [262]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 04:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: September swinging.





	Porch Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anotheramy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotheramy/gifts).



> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Emila-Wan and Carol  
> Mali Wane and Laura McEwan for posting to the Master Apprentice ML  
> Travis for posting to the Master Apprentice Archive on AO3  
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia 
> 
> References:  
> [Farewell Summer - Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Farewell_Summer)  
> [The Last of the Wine - Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Last_of_the_Wine)  
> [Shine On, Harvest Moon - Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shine_On,_Harvest_Moon)
> 
> Arcadian references:  
> [Bermuda Breezes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11050047)  
> [Dreaming of Bermuda](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11816529)  
> [Sweater Weather](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4127694)  
> [The Porch of July](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1952985)  
> [A Musical Saturday](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10616820)  
> [A Paduan New Year's Eve](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1752725)

An owl softly hooted its evensong in the back yard of 242 Templeton Way in Alder Run.

It was the evening of September 2nd, the Saturday of Labor Day weekend, so the start of the fall semester was just three days away from now. Anticipation thrummed through the professors as they sat upon the new green and blue tartan cushion on their porch swing. The run-up to the school year was just as exhilarating as the engines of the QO2 had felt when the powerful turbines propelled them across the Atlantic Ocean on their cruise to Bermuda.

They had just returned from a fund-raiser at the university for the victims of Hurricane Harvey. The Skyhawks women and men's teams had put on a gymnastics exhibition at the arena in the Luke Athletic Center in front of a sold-out crowd of students, parents, and faculty. In addition to paying a $ 30 admission fee per person, the audience had been told to come prepared with necessities for the newly homeless. There were bins for donated clothing and supplies, like blankets, non-perishable food, bottled water, toiletries, flashlights, and batteries.

At the end of the exhibition, a raffle for a huge stuffed Skyhawk had been held, and the happy winner was the four-year-old granddaughter of a secretary in the American History Department. All of the proceeds from the evening would go straight to the disaster-relief fund, which was maintained by Chancellor Velum's office.

Ian had impressed his husband, as always, with challenging routines on the high bar, the parallel bars, and the vaulting horse. Fortunately, Ian had driven them home in the Audi Gallia, because Quinn was in a reverie during the ride, reliving Ian's incredible feats and how edible he'd looked performing them.

Ian had taken a shower as soon as they got home, and they both changed into their comfortable clothes to enjoy the beautiful evening together. They even put on soft suede moccasins, made all the softer from years of wear, over their thick tartan socks for a feeling of maximum relaxation.

Quinn reveled in each sign of the turn of the seasons. The crickets were chirping at their loudest in a nightly symphony, they'd lost over an hour of sunlight in both the morning and evening, and he'd planted his autumn garden in a rainbow of colors, with its calendulas, chrysanthemums, and cosmos. Despite the lateness of the hour, he could see the bursts of yellow, orange, red, and purple, radiant in the dim light of the porch bulb.

He and Ian had already written their lecture notes for the first week of classes. Quinn was lucky enough to be teaching one of his favorites -- 'Farewell Summer', Ray Bradbury's last book, which felt like a continuation of his classic, 'Dandelion Wine'. It was made for reading at this time of year, just as another novel on his syllabus, 'Something Wicked This Way Comes', was made for Halloween, and indeed his class would be covering it on Tuesday, October 31st. Quinn relished the intricacies of scheduling a seasonal reading list for his students, just one of a multitude of ways he kept his lectures stimulating for them.

Quinn had a special place in his heart for 'Dandelion Wine'. He'd never forgotten seeing the book in his lad's childhood bedroom in Padua, just as a twin copy resided in his own, and realizing they would've had the same instant connection as boys that they'd formed on their magical ride on the Amtrak Acela to the Tolkien symposium.

Speaking of wine, Ian also had chosen a perfect book for autumn -- 'The Last of the Wine' by Mary Renault, which covered the time when the high summer of Periclean Athens was ending, and its heroes, Lysis and Alexias, had to negotiate this transitional period in Ancient Greek history.

It was always a happy semester when they got to teach both Bradbury and Renault.

Now, with all of their prep done for the week ahead, they were relaxing on the porch swing side by side, lazily rocking along, content just to drift away on the night breezes. Quinn had brought his guitar outdoors to serenade his laddie, but it was currently resting atop the cushion on his left side, so he could drape an arm over Ian's shoulders, which made both of them feel warmer.

They could hear the faint sound of the telephone ringing in the kitchen, what with their Jedi hearing, but after one look at each other, they knew they'd let it go to voicemail. Probably a telemarketer anyway, because it wasn't quite 9 o'clock yet.

Since there was an autumnal chill in the air, the men wore their cream-colored Aran pullovers, which Quinn's Aunt Maureen had sent them for Christmas, over faded jeans. Maureen had also sent tiny sweaters for the puppies, which Artoo and Sandy had worn that afternoon for the first time this season, when they went for a run on the bike path with their dads. When they'd met the Changs on the path, Mrs. Chang snapped a picture of the whole family with her cell phone and promised to send them a copy.

"Ah, darlin', 'tis hard to believe the semester is almost upon us," said Quinn, running his fingers through the soft coppery spikes of Ian's hair.

Ian was practically purring now. "I know. Feels like we just got back from our cruise to Bermuda."

"No wonder it seems that way -- remember that delicious dream we had just a couple of weeks ago?" Quinn nuzzled into his husband's forehead.

"Remember? I'd like to dream it every night. Much more fun than our real vacation." Ian winked at him insouciantly.

Quinn winked back and added a lopsided smile for good measure. "Well, naturally. How often do you get a chance to make love on a beautiful pink-sand beach in real life?"

Ian didn't bother answering the rhetorical question and cuddled closer to his herven instead. They snuggled just like that for the next little while, swinging into the September breezes with a rhythmic creaking, which made a pleasant accompaniment to the crickets. Eventually, Quinn stretched and reached for his guitar. He strummed a pleasant string of notes, improvising as he went along. After Quinn cleared his throat, Ian knew his guid-man (husband/master) was ready to sing for him.

Ian realized he was in the hands of a Master when he heard the adapted lyrics that Quinn serenaded him with:

"Shine on, shine on, harvest moon up in the sky;  
I've had the best of lovin' January, February, June, and July.  
Snow time ain't no time to sit outdoors and spoon;  
So shine on, shine on, harvest moon for me and my guy."

As soon as he'd sung the last word, Quinn kissed his laddie with exquisite tenderness, and Ian kissed him back, both of them utterly enthralled.

"Just love it when you sing to me," Ian whispered, his voice barely audible over the chirping of the crickets. "Especially when you customize the lyrics just for us."

Quinn's Jedi hearing served him well again, as he was able to make out every word in spite of Ian's whispering. "There's no finer audience, me boyo." He put the guitar aside again, so he could cradle Ian in his arms. "And I love it when you sing for me while you're playing the piano."

Ian said, "My pleasure, Quinn. Makes me glad I stuck with the piano lessons all those years."

Picking up his lad's hand, Quinn said, "I can still make out the calluses." He ran a soothing fingertip over them and was rewarded with another purring sound from Ian. Good vibrations.

"Y'know, I first heard 'Shine On, Harvest Moon' at sleepaway camp, when I was younger than Lelia is now." Ian grinned at his herven, a softly reminiscent glint in his eye. "We were sitting around the campfire, and we'd just finished our snack of s'mores and milk. Baz, the head counselor of our cabin, started to sing it, and we asked him to teach it to us. We picked it up in a couple of minutes and had a good old-fashioned sing-a-long right then and there."

Ian's words were so evocative that Quinn almost believed he'd been sitting next to his little lad by that fire so long ago. He could all but smell the marshmallows and taste the dark chocolate.

"How 'bout singing this song for the folks at Alder Grove on our next visit?" asked Ian.

Quinn nodded. "Grand idea, Ian. They'll love it. A lot of them will probably remember it from decades ago."

"I'd better call Rosanna Ticoh to schedule this month's performance at the nursing home," Ian said. Rosanna was the Activities Director at Alder Grove, and she coordinated all of the entertainment for the residents.

Quinn nodded into the silk of his lad's hair. "We already have a hike planned with Keith and Monty for next Saturday, so how about going there two weeks from today?"

Ian said, "Sounds good. Don't forget -- our family Scrabble night is also a week from now. I want to pick up some bridge mix and honey-dipped pecans for Lelia. She loves them as much as you love those little spice cakes Prudence makes for you."

"By the way, Lelia told me a couple of days ago that she'd like to come along on our visits to Alder Grove. She wants to sing with us," Quinn said.

Ian's eyes shone in the dark. "Oh, that's wonderful. I'm so proud of her."

"She's growing up to be a fine young lassie," said Quinn, with avuncular pride of his own. His stomach gave out a grumble, probably because he was still thinking about the spice cakes that Ian had mentioned earlier. "Would you like a snack now, darlin'?"

Ian nodded. "Oh, yeah. I worked up quite an appetite doing that high-bar routine tonight."

"Well worth every calorie expended," said Quinn with a chuckle, happily replaying the high-flying release moves in his mind's eye, just as he had on their drive back home.

Quinn got to his feet first, extending his hand to his husband for a boost up. When Ian stood, he melted into Quinn like marshmallows into cocoa. They shared a kiss, long and deep.

Eventually, they headed indoors, basking in the warmth of their own little hobbit hole. Luckily, Artoo and Sandy were still cuddling on the couch in the living room, so they didn't have to worry about waking them up in their kitchen baskets. They gave out contented woofs when their dads petted them as they walked by. After putting his guitar away, Quinn used the guest facilities in the hall, gallantly leaving the master bathroom to Ian.

Then Quinn got Violet's dark-chocolate macadamia cookies from the bread box and put half a dozen on a plate, while Ian poured cups of skim milk for them. Quinn grabbed some napkins and placed everything on a tray, and they headed back outside, where they could tell that it had gone down a couple of degrees in just the past ten minutes. Fortunately, their Aran pullovers still kept them warm.

Quinn put the tray on the small wicker table by his side of the swing and sat down next to his lad. Now he and Ian had the cushion all to themselves and proceeded to make the most of it. Ian rested his head on Quinn's chest, giving out a happy sigh as soon as Quinn's arm came around him. Quinn smiled, delighted when he could evoke a wonderful sound like that from his husband. Then his smile deepened even further after Ian started to pet his stomach above his clothing. Ian's fingertip lazily traced along the raised cable-knit pattern of Quinn's pullover, making Quinn shiver, despite the warmth of his laddie's smile.

Ian reached up for a kiss and found that the chocolate tasted even more delicious on Quinn's lips than his own. No surprise to him at all. He deepened the kiss and discovered hints of brown sugar and molasses, but they couldn't match the incomparable sweetness of his husband's loving touch.

Quinn gazed up at the sky and saw Uranus in its green and blue glory, as it seemed to beam at him. He gathered his laddie in close with a rumble of pure contentment.


End file.
